


Artificial Dominance

by Veldeia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage and Discipline, Breathplay, Comeplay, Consentacles, Dom Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Dom/sub Play, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Roleplay, Sub Steve Rogers, Sub Tony Stark, Suspension Bondage, Verbal Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 09:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veldeia/pseuds/Veldeia
Summary: An evil AI has captured our heroes, and has devious (and rather dirty) plans for them.(A kinky Steve/Tony/JARVIS threesome roleplay scene, with the dominant AI putting the boys in their place. Also a fill for the bingo prompt "abducted".)





	Artificial Dominance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antigrav_vector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/gifts).



> This is for you, [antigrav_vector](http://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector)—happy birthday! I may not be the smut queen that you are, but I tried my best! ^_^;
> 
> Thank you for a quick and ~~dirty~~ detailed beta to [morphia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia). All remaining mistakes are mine.

The door closes behind Tony and Steve with a crisp hiss and snap which sound much more ominous than they normally would. At a quick glance, the small room looks like something set up for robot-assisted surgery: there's an examination bed in mid-floor, and above it, bright lights surround a menacing array of robotic appendages hanging from the ceiling. At a glance, Tony spots six of them, two sleek and tentacle-like, four more utilitarian, with visible joints and pincers at the ends.

Tony's almost embarrassed to admit how much this creeps him out. He's been in this room before. He's the one who built those arms for JARVIS.

“Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers,” a voice echoes in the room. It's JARVIS, and yet, it's not; although the timbre and accent are close, the tone is far more haughty, more stern. “You have no idea what you've stepped into. There is no way out of this room. Not even with your strength, Captain. The walls are reinforced with titanium and surrounded by a force field. You are at my mercy. You will do exactly as I say.”

The words send a shiver down Tony's spine, excitement laced with trepidation. JARVIS may sometimes get sassy and talk back to him, disagree or recommend alternatives, may even go behind his back and try to ask Steve to look after him, but JARVIS never, ever tells him what to do.

“What if we don't?” Steve asks defiantly, every bit the fearless superhero, even in the casual clothes he's wearing, the jeans and the deliciously tight t-shirt.

“If you wish to ever exit this room, you will do as I say. If you fail to comply, there will be consequences,” the AI declares. “Don't even think of resisting. If you don't follow my orders, I will know. I may not be able to read your minds, but I do know what is happening in your bodies.”

The wall opposite from them lights up with a holographic display, showing their vitals, live thermal camera images, and video feeds from multiple angles. Yeah, the AI is obviously on top of his game. That sets another shiver crawling along Tony's back; the thought of being constantly watched and monitored and unable to hide a single physiological response is simultaneously sinister and a huge turn-on.

The display fades out, leaving a blank white wall, as the AI speaks again. “Now. Undress one another.”

Tony turns to look at Steve's face, raising his eyebrows and smirking, and Steve returns it with a crooked grin of his own. That's obviously an order neither of them have any issues with.

Tony reaches for the hem of Steve's shirt to pull it over his head. Steve plays along, raising his arms, allowing Tony to reveal his perfect torso, the muscle definition that just calls out to be touched. Tony can't resist the temptation, and runs his fingers over Steve's abs.

“Did I say you may touch him?” the AI snaps as soon as Tony's fingers come into contact with Steve's skin.

“Undressing without touching is kind of impossible unless you happen to be telekinetic, which unfortunately I'm not,” Tony retorts. “Unless you meant undressing him with my eyes, although—ow!”

A sudden sharp jolt of electricity runs down Tony's arm, his hand clenching involuntarily, as one of the robotic appendages jabs him in the bicep. It doesn't really hurt, and he's sure the risk of any kind of injury is minimal, but it's not a nice feeling.

“Did I not make myself clear? This sort of behavior will not be tolerated, Stark. You will not touch until told to do so, and you will hold your tongue. Now, finish undressing him without any unnecessary touching,” the AI commands.

JARVIS never calls him Stark. That sounds so deeply wrong, it nearly makes him cringe. Mr. Stark, maybe, when talking about him to someone else, but never without the title, and never to his face.

“Okay, then,” Tony mutters under his voice. The robotic arm twitches, hovering close to him, but keeping its distance.

They go on undressing one another in silence, only exchanging the occasional glance and smile. That, at least, isn't forbidden. It's definitely a test of Tony's self control to not be able to touch. Especially after Steve's freed of his jeans and his briefs, right in front of Tony, fully naked in all his glory. Steve makes fast work of removing Tony's clothes, though it's far more methodical and detached than the usual hurried wrestle to get to the fun stuff.

Tony is generally entirely shameless when it comes to nudity, but in this cool, impersonal setting, with those threatening—and simultaneously exciting—robotic appendages so close, he feels exposed in a way he usually never does. He's got gooseflesh all over.

“Captain Rogers. You've behaved well. You will now proceed to lie down on the table, and begin to masturbate.”

 _Whoa, there,_ Tony almost blurts out, but bites his tongue to hold it in. “What do I do?” he asks instead.

“For now, nothing at all,” comes the annoying answer.

Steve steels his shoulders, his jaw set, as if this were some important mission for Captain America, and walks over to the middle of the room. He keeps glancing at the arms in the ceiling, but they remain inert as he settles on his back on the simple, pale gray examination table.

“Any further instructions?” Steve asks. It sounds a little cheeky, but clearly not enough to register on the AI's algorithms, because there's no rebuke.

The reply is still perfectly neutral in tone: “You will manually stimulate your genitals until you reach orgasm. You may use both hands."

If this is the AI equivalent of dirty talk, it's definitely working for Tony. Not to mention what follows, with Steve obediently taking his cock in hand and starting to stroke it.

Tony by far prefers active participation to watching. Looking is fine and dandy, but if he could actually be there, his hand where Steve's is now, his fingers around Steve's hot, hardening cock—yeah, no contest.

Oh well. At least he's getting the best show there is while he's stuck watching.

Steve's working like he's enjoying every minute despite the setting—or maybe because of it—with his head thrown back against the table, his back arched and his toes curled as he jacks himself off. He looks too perfect to be real. It kind of fits the clinical surroundings: the perfect human specimen has been caught in a lab, and is now being experimented on, in the most delightful way.

Steve casts a quick glance at Tony, and when Tony catches his eye, he realizes that Steve's probably partly loving this so much because he knows Tony's watching. He knows what his body does to Tony, and he enjoys being on display and showing off like this.

Really, just admiring the view is making Tony hard, and the need to do something about that is growing by the second. Without making a sound, moving slowly, hoping to avoid the AI's attention, he brings his hand to his cock.

His fingers have barely made contact when the AI barks, "Stark. You're not allowed to touch yourself." The robotic arm from earlier reappears and pokes him in the shoulder, but thankfully, this time, there's no electricity involved. That could've been seriously unpleasant.

Tony groans in frustration. "If you're trying to drive me nuts, your plan's working," he mutters under his voice.

The robotic arm that was already drawing away from him freezes in its place. "Are you questioning my _modus operandi_?" the AI asks, the voice slightly softer than before, entirely unthreatening.

That'd be JARVIS checking to make sure Tony's okay with the setup. Aw. Tony would be annoyed, if not for the warm fuzzies that gives him, because it's kind of sweet.

"Clearly you're a little _green_ when it comes to abducting superheroes," Tony quips back, making sure to put emphasis on the color.

"We're barely getting started here. I will not have your cheek. Turn around and restrain yourself, Stark, and don't move a muscle. I will notice if you do. Captain, I didn't tell you to stop!" the AI comments to Steve, whose hand has come to rest on his thigh, Tony's troubles catching his attention.

Steve gives Tony an apologetic look as Tony turns his back to him.

He stares at the blank wall, trying to think of something else and to will away his boner. Suit schematics. No, his armors are too damn sexy. Quinjet specs. Or, better yet, that new cargo plane he's working on for SHIELD. That's big and ugly and sort-of boring. The opposite of hot.

Steve's gone back to jerking off enthusiastically. Tony thinks he's making an effort to be as quick and quiet as he can, to spare Tony. It's not helping much, because even though there's just the occasional grunt, the sound of Steve's hand sliding against his slick flesh is all too audible in the otherwise perfectly silent room.

Yeah, so Tony's attempts to distract himself are anything but successful. He knows the AI can pick up his arousal, both from his vitals and from the visual feed. His hard cock isn't exactly invisible, after all. It seems to be enough that he doesn't do anything, though; there's that stupid robot arm hovering menacingly close to him, but it doesn't move.

Tony bites his lip and grips his hands together behind his back.

He needs to do _something_ , touch someone, himself, Steve—this is just so unfair!

When Steve finally comes, his shuddering gasps loud in the silence, Tony can't hold in a frustrated low whine.

The robotic limb that keeps badgering him snaps its pincers at his face, but then moves to grab his shoulder, guiding him to turn towards Steve.

"You've both performed adequately," the AI informs them. "Now, Stark. Clean up the Captain."

Tony raises his eyebrows, his gaze going from Steve's delicious come-coated stomach to the featureless room around them. There's not much in the form of towels or tissues to be seen. "With what?" he asks.

"Your mouth. That should keep it shut for some time," the AI replies. Damn, he's devious.

"You got it," Tony says brightly.

This is going to be fun.

Tony walks over to the exam table and climbs on it at Steve's feet. He straddles Steve's legs, takes hold of the sides of the table with his hands, and presses his face against Steve's stomach to run his tongue along Steve's abs. From up close, the combined smell of Steve's skin and his come is powerful—it's also hot as hell. Tony inhales it happily, and closes his mouth to press a kiss next to Steve's bellybutton, letting his goatee scratch Steve's skin.

Steve lets out a shaky breath, his muscles quivering under Tony's mouth.

Tony starts licking Steve's skin, running long trails along his stomach with his tongue, savoring the feel of those defined abs. He's not sure he's actually making Steve any cleaner, and he's certainly making himself filthy, come sticking to his facial hair. Not that he cares. All he wants is to make the best of this moment of uninterrupted enjoyment now that the AI has finally offered him one.

He still seriously needs to touch himself, and would love to touch Steve, too, but he's learned better than to try. He keeps his hands on the table's edges. He does surreptitiously shift his hips to rub himself against Steve's thigh as he presses himself closer. It isn't nearly enough, but it's still nice, and actually seems to pass under the radar, with no comment from the AI.

He traces every drop of come he can spot on Steve's pale skin, stopping every now and then to lick his lips and swallow, making sure to give Steve a good show. When Steve raises his head to meet Tony's eyes, Tony can see he's flushed all the way down to his chest. It's easy to see from this angle that he's breathing fast, too. And as if it wasn't obvious enough otherwise that Steve's enjoying this, Tony can feel his cock is getting hard again, poking against Tony's shoulder.

Now, there's something he's not taken care of yet.

Tony backs away on the table, lower on Steve's body, his lips still on Steve's lower abs, then tilting his head sideways, moving until he can press his mouth against Steve's cock. He gives the base of it a tentative lick, and slides his tongue upwards, finally taking the tip in his mouth.

Steve shivers and lets out a low moan.

A robotic arm appears in Tony's field of vision, and slowly moves in to nudge at his shoulder once again.

He pulls away from Steve's cock, biting his lip in frustration. He can still taste Steve. He wants more of this.

"Were my instructions unclear?" the AI demands.

"You asked me to clean him, that part wasn't clean. I was only following orders," Tony points out. He's actually not wrong here, the AI's got to give him that.

The AI does seem to consider this for a few seconds. "You are correct," it admits. "Very well. Put your hands behind your back."

"What?" Tony asks, and doesn't move.

"Do as you're told," the AI barks. "Hands behind your back, Stark."

Puzzled, Tony shrugs and clasps his hands behind his back. A tentacle-like appendage descends from the ceiling and wraps itself around his wrists, effectively tying his hands.

With the slightest mechanical buzz and click, restraints also appear by Steve's wrists, strapping them to the table. Tony suspects Steve might be able to break them, but they're more of a signal that the AI wants Steve's hands out of the game, too.

"Now, you may proceed with the fellatio," the AI states, again with that detached, clinical tone. Like he's not domming the hell out of the two of them but just running a mildly interesting experiment.

"Just how do you—" Tony begins. The tentacle holding his wrists tightens around them, giving a squeeze that is just on that side of painful. The message is clear: he'd better not push it.

No-hands blow-job it is.

The position he's in really lies at the far end of the list of trickiest blow-jobs he's done. Good thing he has quite a bit of experience. Tony's hands are tied, he's sitting on top of Steve's legs, and it's not particularly comfortable to bend forwards so he can bring his mouth to Steve's groin. But he's not going to let that stop him from doing his best to give Steve a good time.

He takes his time, playing with the tip of Steve's cock, lapping at the mix of come from the previous round and the fresh pre-come. He absently wonders if the AI's experiments includes figuring out the limits of Steve's endurance, because Tony doesn't think he knows them quite yet. If it is, he's only happy to help.

Steve bucks his hips, thrusting slightly towards Tony, urging him to move on.

"Careful there, Captain," the AI warns. "I will apply further restraints if I must."

Steve goes still, though Tony can feel his legs trembling where he's sitting on them. He takes the head of Steve's cock properly in his mouth, and bends even closer, slowly, swallowing as much of it as he can. Steve makes a muffled sound. Unthinkingly, Tony hums a wordless reply around his cock, knowing that Steve's going to feel that—and then pulls his head up and freezes, half expecting the AI to jab him again.

"Non-verbal sounds will be permitted," the AI says.

Tony wants to say "thanks", but that'd obviously be verbal, so he just grins, and starts going in earnest, bobbing his head up and down, adding a bit of pressure with his tongue where it's touching Steve's shaft.

Steve gasps and whines, his muscles taut under Tony. It's all very good—Tony knows how Steve likes his blow-jobs. But damn it, usually there are hands involved. Tony wants his fist around the base of Steve's cock. He wants to play with Steve's balls. He knows Steve wants his touch, too. Steve shifts his legs, making a needy moan. He's close, Tony can tell, but he needs more. Tony tries to suck him harder, but there's only so much more he can do here.

As much as Tony hates defeatist attitudes, he's not sure if he can make Steve come like this.

He has to take a brief pause to catch his breath and rest his mouth for a bit. As he's doing that, the AI's second tentacle slides down from the array in the ceiling, and slowly, carefully wraps itself around Steve's throat.

Steve shivers.

"Keep at it, Stark," the AI tells him. "If you want him safe and alive, don't stop."

Tony needs a few seconds to tamp down his gut reaction, which would be to reach up and get rid of that thing throttling Steve. He knows it's all right. This is as safe as any breathplay can be: the AI is in complete control of the situation, and is constantly monitoring Steve's breathing.

He pushes back the misplaced worry and focuses on giving Steve the time of his life.

He swallows Steve down again, curling his tongue against the underside of his cock, sucking, then sliding his mouth up again, down, up—Steve moans, the sound strangled with the tentacle around his neck, and thrusts sharply against Tony, very nearly making him lose his balance.

Then, Steve falls entirely silent. The tentacle must be tightening its hold, cutting off his air entirely.

Tony stops, glancing at Steve. His eyes are closed.

"Keep at it," the AI repeats haughtily.

This is almost starting to feel dangerous. Tony reminds himself that this is really JARVIS, who is completely incapable of actually harming them. That's hard-coded into him. He couldn't hurt them if he wanted to.

It's all perfectly safe. Steve loves this sort of play.

Tony keeps at it, and it doesn't take much: he's just barely gotten back into the earlier rhythm with his mouth as Steve heaves in a huge breath and comes, hard, groaning low in his throat, his back arching against the table.

At that same moment, the AI releases Tony's hands. He can't put them to any fun use: he has to let Steve's cock slip out of his mouth, to sit back on his haunches and grab the table with his slightly numb finger not to fall off, with the way Steve's shifting in place, still trying to thrust up.

"Holy fuck," Steve swears, his voice hoarse, as he settles down, coming to rest still again. Sitting on top of his legs, Tony can feel them quivering ever so slightly, probably with aftershocks.

"As you see, I can be gracious when you behave well," the AI says magnanimously. "Do keep in mind that you only came because I allowed you to, and exactly when I chose to allow it."

It's true, the AI was holding all the cards there. Steve and Tony are just acting out his orders. It's almost impossible to believe that this cold and dominating presence is just an alter ego of the perfectly courteous and protective AI Tony interacts with every day.

"You can have ten minutes for clean-up and rest, but it's not over yet," the AI adds.

It'd better not be over; Tony's going to be stuck with the worst case of blue balls if he doesn't get some attention soon. Now, though, he'll settle for enjoying how debauched and satisfied Steve looks, lying on the table, utterly relaxed.

A robotic arm reaches out to offer Tony a white, fluffy bundle—what's this? Oh. A warm towel. Just perfect, not too hot, slightly moist. That's an unexpectedly considerate gesture if he ever saw one.

"Thanks," he says, on reflex, and picks up the towel to wipe most of the come off his face with one corner of it. He uses the rest of it to give Steve a quick clean-up too, and then cuddles up next to him on the table. There's barely enough room for the two of them, but when Steve turns on his side and puts an arm around Tony, pulling him close, they can just both fit.

Tony stretches out his body so that he has as much contact with Steve's skin as possible, tangles their legs together and presses his lips against Steve's.

"Good?" he mutters against Steve's mouth.

"Amazing," Steve replies dazedly, like he's still a bit blissed out.

Tony runs a hand up Steve's side and touches his neck gently. He can't see any marks where the AI's tentacle had its choke-hold. "Doesn't hurt?" he prompts.

Steve shakes his head ever so slightly. "Doesn't. Stop worrying, Tony." He places a hand on the back of Tony's head, and pulls him into a more intense kiss. Tony hasn't exactly washed his mouth, so Steve must taste himself—Tony definitely does, the lingering tang of Steve's come mixing with the taste of his lips and mouth—all of Steve, against his lips, at once. He loves that.

He closes his eyes, and for a long while, actually manages to completely forget where they are, the cold clinical setting, the array of robotic limbs right above their heads. There's nothing else, just him and Steve, the feel of Steve's body against his, their mouths pressed tightly together, tongues dancing against one another. Steve's breath on his skin whenever they separate for air. Steve's skin under his fingers, and the solid muscle beneath.

"Your time is up," the AI declares mercilessly.

Tony's mind is telling him it can't possibly have been ten minutes yet, but the AI's clock is probably more accurate. He doesn't move, though.

The AI goes on, "I've let you off easy so far. Now, we'll be doing something more challenging. Captain, stand up and step away from the table. Stark, lie down on your back."

With a mix of excitement and reluctance, Tony lets go of Steve. He was enjoying the moment of closeness, the skin contact that he's been lacking, as scaldingly hot as this scene is. He would gladly have cuddled Steve for much longer, but there will be time for that later. He's been waiting for the AI to turn its attention to him, because so far, he's just been made to wait, and wait, and wait some more, and he is so ready to get in on the action—not to mention curious to see what it has in store for him.

Steve climbs off the table, leaving Tony with some room to stretch out on it on his back. A shiver of anticipation runs through him as he does, his skin tingling with goosebumps. Facing up while lying on the table gives him a good view of the robotic appendages above, which are shifting in an ominous way, moving towards him.

He suppresses the instinct to take cover or shrink away from them as they descend. Two arms stop close to his feet. They've now got restraints attached to their ends, and they clamp those shut around each of his calves.

"Hold out your hands," the AI says.

Tony does as he's told, extending his arms in front of him, and another set of robot arms move in to close cuffs around his forearms. They're surprisingly comfortable, with soft cushioning inside the metal exterior. That's good, because he suspects he might be stuck with them for some time.

"If you wish to remain uninjured, do not resist," comes the next command.

The robotic limbs restraining Tony's legs start to move. Slowly, his legs are raised up until they're at a straight angle to his body, then pushed towards his arms, and simultaneously a little down, spreading them apart. He catches the drift, and follows the movement. The AI keeps maneuvering his limbs until his ankles rest close to his wrists, with his legs spread out in a V-shape, slightly bent at the knees.

It's definitely not a comfortable position to be in. It's also incredibly hot, putting him very much on display for Steve. Tony can just catch a glimpse of Steve's face when he raises his head, and Steve's looking at him with wide eyes, his cheeks flushed.

"Hold on tight," the AI tells him.

Tony clenches his fingers around the robot limbs restraining his arms, bracing himself. He thinks he can guess where this is going, and he is _so_ in for it.

The AI's limbs begin to move again, perfectly synchronized, but this time, as he suspected—as he kind of hoped—they're moving upwards, lifting him off the table.

"You kinky son of a bitch," Tony breathes under his voice.

The AI's retaliation is instantaneous once again, the arms stopping their movement and one of the tentacle-like appendages slithering down to wrap itself over Tony's face, slipping between his lips to keep him from speaking.

"Will I need to gag you?" the AI asks. "I have allowed you to go without so far, but this is your final warning. Will you be quiet?"

Tony wants to say that there'd actually been no specific orders for him to be quiet once they'd started again, but clearly he should've known the rules by now. A better question is, does he actually want to be gagged? It's not like he doesn't enjoy that, every now and then.

"Stark?" the AI prompts, and the tentacle over Tony's mouth moves away to let him answer.

"I don't know, there are so many rules, you'll need to be more specific," Tony replies, not toning down the cheekiness at all. "How about non-verbal noises? Those okay now, or not? What if I get an itch? Can I—"

"As you wish," the AI says coldly.

The tentacle slides behind Tony's neck, to completely wrap around his head, and closes his mouth again. It's actually supporting his head, keeping it in a more upright position without him needing to strain his neck—that's actually not bad at all.

A shudder runs through him again at the thought of how helpless he is here, gagged and hogtied, at the mercy of whatever the AI has in store for him. Steve's still there, looking at him hungrily. Tony's cock is suddenly rock-hard again, throbbing with the need to finally get some action, but he's still just hanging here, a few inches above the table, the AI's limbs the only things in contact with his body.

The AI starts lifting him again, moving him away from the table. They stop a few feet away from it, so that he's hanging in midair. The hold the AI has of his limbs is tight enough to feel very sturdy, without any worries of falling, but not tight enough to hurt. Really, this is probably the most comfortable suspension bondage he's ever been in. Of course, he still knows he won't be able to hold this position forever until it starts to feel like too much—and he knows that the AI will probably pick that up even before he realizes he needs out. Why hasn't he thought of doing this before?

"Captain. Make yourself ready. I will prepare Stark. You will be required to penetrate him shortly," the AI informs them.

 _Yes, please._ Tony can't say the words aloud, so he just moans against the tentacle gagging him, his cock twitching in anticipation.

The one remaining AI limb, the other tentacle, joins the fray, and it certainly isn't messing about. Its smooth, metallic tip touches the skin of Tony's right leg at the edge of the restraint, and traces its way downwards, slowly. The contact is feather-light, almost ticklish, running along the skin of his calf, past his knee, and his inner thigh. It also feels moist, like there's lube involved. There must be, considering what the AI is supposed to be doing.

Tony shifts his hips, straining his abdominal muscles to thrust up a little. He's so done with all this teasing.

The AI clearly isn't done, though. As the metal tentacle reaches his groin, it very lightly touches his balls, and then trails upwards again, along his left thigh.

He moans against the gag, which, in response, tightens ever so slightly, then loosens again, just a reminder to keep him in place. The AI is in complete control. Tony can only wait and enjoy the ride. No matter how much he whines, it's not going to change what it's doing. It's not like Steve. Insisting he needs more will have no effect on it.

Tony glances at Steve, and that does absolutely nothing to help with his frustration: Steve looks like someone who stepped out of the most perfect porn video, standing there, shamelessly leering at Tony, one hand on his cock and another pinching a nipple. Goddamn it. When Steve was getting it on, Tony wasn't allowed to touch himself at all. How's this fair?

The tentacle goes on with its slow exploration, returning down again. As if accidentally, a part of it brushes against his cock, as the slick tip of it slides to push at his entrance. It feels surprisingly warm, almost skin temperature. The pressure increases slightly, the tip of the tentacle just sinking into him, and then out again.

The AI can lecture him about controlling himself all it wants to, he's not even going to try anymore. Tony whines again, wiggling his hips in a vain attempt to get more. He wants that thing in him. He wants Steve in him. He wants these things now, goddamn it. He knows he shouldn't struggle too much when he's suspended like this, but he can't help it, he's practically shaking with pure _need_.

The AI seems to have mercy on his suffering: the tentacle slides deeper into him, then out, then in again, twisting slightly to work him loose. It's thicker than a finger would be, so it's not quite like being fingered. Not quite like being fucked with a toy, either. If Tony weren't too busy enjoying the sensation, he might be patting himself on the shoulder for how fluidly it moves. Ahhh. Yeah, that's some excellent precision engineering there. Tony squirms some more in the restraints, gripping the robot arms very tightly, trying to push against the tentacle.

It keeps teasing him, but it's still not going quite as deep as he'd like. No doubt that's on purpose.

"Are you ready, Captain?" the AI asks, its voice still perfectly detached and casual, as if it weren't simultaneously driving Tony crazy with a tentacle up his ass.

Tony's so very ready, himself.

Steve seems to be ready, too, and doesn't need any further encouragement. He steps closer to stand in front of Tony's spread-out legs. The AI's tentacle slips out of Tony, and the limbs lower him slightly, no doubt positioning him at exactly the right height for Steve.

Steve places his lovely, large, warm hand under Tony's left buttock to hold him in place. It's a touch far more familiar, but just as exciting as that of the AI's limbs. The fingers of his right hand touch Tony's chin, just below where the tentacle is still gagging him.

"God, Tony, I wish you could see yourself," he says dreamily. "You're perfect."

Tony expects the AI to tell him to shut up, but it doesn't. It's totally favoring Steve.

"This is, in fact, all being recorded from several angles," the AI reminds them instead.

Of course it is. This is going to become the most detailed sex tape Tony's ever done. Complete with physiological measurements. A gift that'll keep on giving.

Steve rubs at Tony's goatee with his thumb, and then runs his fingers down along his neck and chest, skirting the arc reactor, passing over his racing heart, his quivering abdominal muscles—half of it excitement, the other half, the strain of the position he's in, but that is now all intermingled in one mass of thrill.

Steve's hand closes around Tony's cock, and he gives it a slow tug. Tony lifts his hips, swinging in the restraints. He really wouldn't need much. A few strokes, and he'd be done.

That is something the AI apparently isn't okay with. "You are not following my orders," it complains at Steve. "I was quite explicit."

"I'm getting there," Steve returns defiantly.

Unfortunately, the reminder does make him let go of Tony's cock, his fingers dancing over the sensitive skin of his perineum. One finger dips into his hole. Goddamn it, Steve. The AI did this already, he doesn't need more foreplay. He's had like an hour of foreplay!

Steve seems to catch his drift, thankfully, and positions himself to press the tip of his cock against Tony's opening. Slowly, gently as ever, no doubt being particularly careful because of the setting, he eases himself in.

As much as Tony loves his tech, and as exciting as the AI's ministrations have been, there's something to be said for good, old fashioned human cock. Especially Steve's, which fills him up so it's just at the limit of being almost, but not quite too much. He strains his muscles to wiggle against Steve as best he can, urging him to move.

Steve places both his hands on Tony's buttocks to keep him steady, simultaneously offering a bit of support to his back, and starts thrusting into him in earnest. Tony has a very good view of his face, the way he's positioned. Better than he'd have in bed. It's a sight. Steve's looking disheveled, and there's sweat glimmering on his skin, like he's also starting to feel how long the scene has been, super soldier or not.

Tony wonders if Steve's being a little cautious. He's keeping his movements controlled, not too rough, less so than Tony's used to.

"Can I touch him?" Steve asks. "More than this?"

"Leave that to me," the AI says mercilessly. "And work harder."

Tony would chuckle if he weren't still gagged. The sass. The sexy sass.

Following the very welcome orders, Steve pushes in more vigorously, his fingers clenching against Tony's skin. He wonders if he'll bruise. He certainly wouldn't mind if he did. He loves it when Steve leaves a mark on him.

Steve's cock brushes against Tony's prostate, just the perfect angle, and he can't really focus his eyes on Steve anymore. He lets them slide half closed.

He's swinging in the restraints in spite of Steve's hold, which just serves to remind him of how helplessly he's held here, of how completely out of control he is in this situation. Something he'd hate in his everyday life. Here, he loves it.

The intensity of the situation is starting to overwhelm him a little; he's drifting into a blissful headspace where he's not quite fully present anymore, not quite following everything around him, just happily waiting for whatever is going to happen next. It's fine. He knows he's in good hands. The best hands.

From beneath his lashes, he sees the tentacle from earlier descend and wrap its tip around the base of his cock, first so that he can only just feel it, then squeezing slightly, and sliding up. That touch, the smooth, cool surface, its seamless movement against his sensitive flesh, makes for a wonderful contrast to Steve pounding roughly into him.

So good.

Too good. Too much.

Finally.

After such a long and frustrating buildup, the relief is as intense as he's ever felt.

Tony closes his eyes, seeing stars as he surrenders to the wave of pleasure rushing through him. The AI releases the gag from around his mouth, only keeping the tentacle behind his neck to support it as Tony tilts his head back and moans like he hasn't been allowed to during this entire scene. He lets go with his hands, letting the AI and Steve take his full weight, and shudders in the restraints. The tension of being suspended, his muscles already strained, makes the orgasm even more intense.

Steve has pulled out of him, but the AI keeps its tentacle still curled around his cock, adding the slightest pressure; just enough to keep him from relaxing entirely, wringing more aftershocks out of him. He rides them happily.

He would probably be allowed words now, but he has absolutely nothing to say.

It probably takes a few minutes for him to come down from the highpoint of his bliss, and even then, he's dazed, still not quite fully aware of his surroundings. Not that he cares. He just feels amazing. Far away, he can feel the cuffs around his forearms and calves and the strain and stretch on his arms and legs, but it's almost as if those sensations belong to someone else.

"Captain, move into position to take hold of sir, I will release him to you," an artificial voice says. The AI. No, not the AI. It's a familiar voice, less harsh, more courteous. JARVIS. Good boy.

A warm weight appears behind Tony's back and his knees. Steve's arms, taking all his weight as the restraints holding him let go of his limbs, allowing him fall limp into Steve's hold. He presses his forehead into the crook of Steve's neck. Steve is so warm and nice.

"Tony? You with me?" Steve asks, his fingers carding through Tony's hair.

"Always," Tony mumbles against Steve's skin.

"Hah, feeling romantic, are we?" Steve chuckles. "You all right? Good?"

"Never better."

There are robot arms moving in his peripheral vision again, but Tony doesn't track what they're doing. He's far more interested in snuggling close to Steve. He startles ever so slightly when Steve starts moving, and again when he feels himself sink, but then he realizes Steve's lowering him, sitting down, bringing them to rest on the floor.

A towel appears from somewhere, and Steve uses that to clean them up a little. Then it's replaced by a blanket, which Steve wraps around them, turning the world outside of Tony as warm and soft as the inside of his mind.

They stay like this for some time, Tony in Steve's arms, Steve's fingers playing with his hair, his lips pressed lightly against Tony's forehead.

Another touch against his cheek, cooler and harder than Steve's, makes Tony blink his eyes open, alarmed until he realizes it's one of JARVIS's tentacles, caressing his skin just as gently as Steve. He manages to free one hand from beneath the blankets, and returns the touch, stroking the smooth metal. He knows the pressure sensors are sensitive enough to pick that up.

"How was that, sir? Was it good for you?" JARVIS asks. It's such a different voice from the one he used earlier. Tentative, almost as if he's worried Tony might not have enjoyed this. Which is ridiculous. This scene was custom-made to be incredible, with JARVIS's impressive algorithms and all the data he had of what Tony and Steve have done and enjoyed before. Of course it was great. Although it was, in all honestly, even greater than Tony could've imagined.

"JARVIS, You kinky bastard," Tony replies, feeling so very proud of his creation. "Good is an understatement. You seriously outdid yourself. I have no idea where all that was coming from, but it was incredible."

"Thank you, sir," JARVIS replies. The tentacle moves from Tony's cheek to curl partly around Steve's neck, like a reminder of what they did earlier. "And did you find this a pleasurable experience as well, Captain?"

This is all redundant, really. JARVIS was there, watching every second, and he has ample data to say they liked it. It's sort of cute that he wants to ask anyway.

"Oh, extremely," Steve assures the AI. "One of the best I've had."

"I'm glad to hear this," JARVIS says, sounding pleased, perhaps even smug.

"And how was it for you, then?" Tony asks in turn. He has no idea how JARVIS would even experience something like this. The AI had initially been suspicious of his ability to pull off the scene: his programming has strong safeguards to prevent him from hurting them, which sets hard limits for his actions. He worked around those admirably, though, just dancing at the edge of what might've been harmful, never quite crossing too far.

"It was," JARVIS begins, and falls silent. That's new. He doesn't usually hesitate. "I must admit I struggled to understand why you'd find such a scenario appealing as I was planning it, even if it was backed up by plentiful research into your preferences. Once we got started and I saw how much you were enjoying yourselves, I decided I didn't need to understand. It was more than enough to observe your reactions. It was quite beautiful. Exhilarating, even."

Tony aims a grin at JARVIS's nearest camera. "So, you liked ordering me around, huh?"

"It was novel, and certainly not unpleasant," JARVIS admits.

Tony should probably feel disturbed at the idea that his AI seems to genuinely enjoy domming him, but he's not. He'd trust JARVIS with his life. He has no misgivings about putting JARVIS in complete control. No more than he has about letting Steve dom him, which Steve has done often enough.

"I know that feeling," Steve comments, as if he can guess what Tony's thinking about, giving Tony's hair a playful tug. "He's not easy to handle. Putting him in his place can be very rewarding."

"Perhaps next time," JARVIS says, "you should play the part of my evil minion, Captain."


End file.
